Scar Tissue
by Compelled
Summary: Matt sits in a bar, waiting for Mello's next orders. MattxMello


_Scar tissue that I wish you saw,  
Sarcastic mister know-it-all._

Push me up against the wall Young Kentucky girl in a push-up bra

Fallin' all over myself To lick your heart and taste your health 'cause

'Dammit. Where the hell is Mello?' The girl around my neck giggled drunkly, and pressed her plaid-draped chest agaisn't my side, racking her long fingernails across the stripes of my shirt.

I grinned down at her guiltily, trying to ignore the fact several buttons had burst open from the pressure of her bust, and focus on why my phone hadn't rang yet. I admit she was cute, but I was supposed to be waiting for Mello's next orders. He told me to come to this bar and wait for him, but he hadn't shown yet. Then- shit what was her name... oh yeah, Christy had shown up, buzzed and drinking vodka on the rocks. She was a cute girl, and I had time to spare, bu she just wasn't quite my type. I sipped at a lukewarm beer and threw an arm around her, anyway. **Pzzzzt. Pzzzt.**

"Ooh, what's that, Matty?" Christy giggled at the vibrations and sipped at her drink, fluttering long eyelashes in my direction. I smirk lightly and flip open the phone with a speeding heart.

"Matt! Get your fucking ass over here now!" Mello screamed at me but, even through the deafening static of the background noise, panting, shouts, screaming, I could tell his voice was strained and painful.

"Where are you? Did you get shot? Mello, where are you!?" Christy sat up straight with wide eyes as I hissed into the phone.

"Get over here, Matt, now! Just come fucking ifind/i me, you dumb ass bitch." I rolled my eyes and snapped the phone shut, pulling away from Christy.

"I gotta go, sorry." I walk briskly away to get to the car. To find my Suicide-Blonde.

I drove around in pentagons, searching for any flash of blonde hair and leather, blood-ruby red rosary beads, the smell of chocolate, anything that would lead to Mello. Then, I found all of that, barely illuminated in an alley off the main road. Bloody footsteps lead away from it, bullet-casings and trash littering the inside. I pulled the car to a skidding, half turned halt and lept from it. I ran into the alleyway, grasping Mello lightly, and pulling him away from the dumpster he was leaning on.

_Blood loss in a bathroom stall Southern girl with a scarlet drawl _

_Soft spoken with a broken jaw Step outside but not to brawl_

I drove him back to the, mostly abandoned club, and dragged him into the men's bathroom. He was silent, grumbling to himself, and throwing occasional punches toward the direction of my face, but I put up with it in silence. I knew Mello, and I could by the town leather and slowly pouring blood he was hurt.

It streamed in rivets down his arms, into my hands, as I discreatly helped inside the bar bathroom. Christy lept to her feet, asking no questions, and offered to help me patch him up. I shook my head at her, grimacing when Mello snarled in her direction, sneering about country-girls and big dogs. She blinked a few times, wavered on her feet, and told him to drown himself in a urnial. He grinned up at me, winking his approval. I shook my head harshly, tossing him roughly into the bathroom. That stupid ass. He was cut, bruised, bleeding-and dare I say it- broken. He jaw was turning a sickly purple under tangled and tarnished blonde hair, which explained why he was so quiet and not hissing half-hearted insults at me. I wiped gently at his cuts with wet papertowels, and he kept a snarl on his face, his chapped upper lip upturned.

"Goddamn, Matt, you whipped house wife. The concerned lover look you have on your face makes me wanna smack your ass and tell you to make me a sandwich. I'm fucking fine." He sounded like a dick, sure, but this is Mello. I spoke fluent Mello. In, Mellonese, that meant 'Matt, quit hovering, I'm love the way you take care of me but I'm smothered. The look on your face makes me happy, but makes me feel inferiour and embaressed. Your making me hot the way you truly care and love me. I wanna smack your ass and order you around, because it makes you happy too. I'm fucking fine.'

"Sorry, Mello. But, really, Boss, you have to be in the bpristene/b condition you left in." I smirked, and he flicked my cheek in responce, eyes narrowing.

"Get in that alleyway behind the bar, now!" I blanched, but grinned, and did as he told. He stomped out behind me, eating a cracked and limp chocolate bar, and sauntered over to me.

"Mattie, babydoll, I'm gonna take you home and lay you on a made bed with clean sheets. There are candles and roses, and we go sweet and slow. No name calling, no bites or scratches, your gonna bottom. How's that sound, my Romeo?" Mello was always pretty sarcastic, and I could see the matching bulge in his own pants.

He wasn't ashamed at being the bottom- he liked it. Why should he do any work, he was a seducer, and he was manipultive. He obviously was the pants in the relationship, so it definatly didn't matter if anyone knew it wa me driving into him. I blushed and stuttered in reply, the way he was speaking was quiet and sickly sweet- not an ounce of lust. He was also slowly untieing his pants, strands of my beloved blonde poking through, and his vest was gone.

Before I knew it, he was around my waist, my back agaisnt the scratching brick wall. Mello's chipped black nails were digging into my shoulders, clawing along my collarbone. He rock of his round butt agaisnt my pelvis was mouthwatering. I had the same feeling in my throat I got when I watched him strech himself. My tongue got swollen and dry, and I whined out his name. He growled in reply, b?iting my jaw and mumbling 'Little Sister, shut up and finish' at me. I did, immediatly, oozing out into him, and feeling more trimphant when he came then when I myself did. I slid down the wall, skin peeling off and clinging to the brick as I did so, Mello's legs hitching up around my waist more, causing me to twitch and groan. I leaned forward onto his chest, his long, nimble fingers rubbing my scalp.

"You did good, Matt." Mello spoke into my hair, and I nuzzled my nose agaisnt a half-broken jaw lightly.

"I need to talk to hookers more often. You get possesive." He hummed in agreement and I unsheathed so we could get dressed and in the car. He was okay with possesive too, but not jealous.

"Come on, sweetheart, we need to get home so I can shower you in sweet nothings and we can cuddle and watch Titanic." Mello snarled, glaring at me, so I hid my smile. See, that didn't bother me. I spoke Mellonease.

_Scar tissue that I wish you saw,  
Sarcastic mister know-it-all_


End file.
